Frozen
by Hidden Guardian
Summary: ONESHOT. Based on the song of the same title by Within Temptation. An evening that takes place between Marluxia and Vexen, and how someone can feel frozen inside when it seems like they have it all.


**Title:** Frozen

**Author:** Hidden Guardian

**Rating:** Mature

**Category: **Games

**Series:** Kingdom Hearts

**Genre:** Angst, Drama

**Characters:** Marluxia, Vexen

**Disclaimer**: I think by now we all know that I don't own Kingdom Hearts. God, I love this song…. I don't own Within Temptation either. But I want the The Heart of Everything sweatshirt.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

_I can't feel my senses_

_I just feel the cold_

_All color seems to fade away_

_I can't reach my soul_

_I would stop running_

_If I knew there was a chance_

_It tears me apart_

_To sacrifice it all_

_But I'm forced to let go_

_Tell me I'm frozen_

_But what can I do_

_Can't tell the reason_

_I did for you_

_When lies turn into truth_

_I sacrificed for you_

_They say that I am frozen_

_But what can I do_

_I can feel your sorrow_

_You won't forgive me_

_But I know you'll be alright_

_It tears me apart_

_That you will never know_

_But I have to let go_

_Tell me I'm frozen_

_But what can I do_

_Can't tell the reason_

_I did for you_

_When lies turn into truth_

_I sacrificed for you_

_They say that I am frozen_

_But what can I do_

_Everything will slip away_

_Shattered pieces will remain_

_When memories fade into emptiness_

_Only time will tell this tale_

_If it all has been in vain_

_I can't feel my senses_

_I just feel the cold_

_Frozen_

_What can I do_

_Frozen_

_Tell me I'm frozen_

_But what can I do_

_Can't tell the reason_

_I did for you_

_When lies turn into truth_

_I sacrificed for you_

_They say that I am frozen_

_But what can I do_

--** "Frozen", Within Temptation**

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Hey, Roxaaaaaas," Axel drawled, walking up to the blonde who sat at the living-room desk, staring out the window facing the row of houses across the street, "haven't you gotten enough of spying on the neighbors for today?"

Roxas turned around and gave him a small glare with his ocean-blue eyes. Axel chuckled and wrapped his arms around his small, teenaged lover. "I don't know why you find them so interesting anyway!" He kissed up the other's neck. "I can entertain you more than they can."

"Quit being a pervert, you horndog," Roxas chided, reaching up with one hand to play with the wild spikes. "I know you feel neglected if I'm not on my knees every minute of every day, but I want to keep watching for a few minutes."

"You know that's illegal, right?" the red-head asked, poking his cheek. "If they catch you peeping, they'll throw you in jail. J-A-I-L. Got it memorized?"

Roxas rolled his eyes, leaning forward a bit. "Axel… you've talked to the people who live in that little pink house, right?" he asked, pointing at a particularly well-kept place across the street, "the one with the white porch and the huge garden?"

"Once or twice when the bread-winner and I were both out trying to tame the beast of the lawns," Axel joked. "We've had a couple of beers. Why?"

"Did you ever notice anything odd about him?" Roxas pressed.

"Not particularly. Come on, Roxas; you're obsessed. I knew it was a mistake to make you a house-hubby," he said, pulling on a blonde lock of hair. "All you do is watch soap operas and read James Patterson novels. It makes you paranoid."

The blonde glared at him. "Shut up, you," he commanded, poking Axel in the ribs.

"Roxas, just come cuddle with me! Look, only wife-y is at home anyway. So you can just pull out the night-vision binoculars later tonight, okay?" Axel asked, kneeling down and folding his hands, staring up at the blonde with emerald-green puppy eyes. "Please!"

"Good lord… fine, you horndog. We both know what you really want."

"What can I say?" Axel asked, smirking, "you're just that irresistible."

Roxas pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up, giving one last glance to the house across the street before letting the thin white curtain close and leading Axel towards the bedroom.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The blonde turned the oven off and cracked the door, leaving the casserole inside so that it would not cool off before Marluxia could get home. The house was already near-perfect. The dining room next to the kitchen was already set up for the meal. A basket with bread sat next to the centerpiece of flowers cut from the house's own front garden, two places had already been set, with folded napkins, the full range of silverware, and a bottle of wine stood in a ice-filled bucket on the stand next to the table.

He did not draw the same sense of satisfaction that most people did from being the home-maker. He was not somebody's wife. But his job was the one out of the two that did not require office work everyday. It was easier to write articles for Bioengineering Technology Advanced magazine from home than it was to run a florist boutique. And if he wanted there to be peace in the house, he was the one who would have to cede anyway. The other certainly would not.

Putting on an oven-mitt to keep his spidery hands from burning, he grabbed the potatoes and carried them out to the dining room before coming back for the green beans. As he sat the dish down, he saw light flash across the dining-room window as a dark green car pulled into the driveway.

He moved quickly to grab the main dish and sat it on the table before stripping off the unflattering mitts, shoving them in a drawer, pouring a glass of the expensive red wine, and meeting his lover at the door with it.

"Welcome home," he said, quietly, as the door was slammed open.

The pink-haired man scoffed and snatched the glass from his hand, taking a deep drink even as he tossed his work apron over the blonde's shoulder. He opened the closet without complaint and hung the garment up in its place.

"The electricity and Mastercard bills came today," he stated as he closed the closet door, following the other into the living room.

"Did you open them?!" he snapped, ocean-blue eyes narrowing to thin slits.

"Of course not," the blonde denied, "I put them on your desk." It was the only time he was ever allowed in the other's private room.

"Good." He swirled the glass in his hand, watching the wine splash against the side. "Vexen?"

"Yes, Marluxia?" the scientist asked immediately.

"Is dinner ready?"

"It is. I made a Mexican casserole, potatoes, green-."

"I'll see it when I get to the table," Marluxia interrupted, "or were you bragging? Wanting a pat on the head? 'Good Vexen'."

The blonde's cheeks turned red but he knew better than to say anything, and for good reason.

Marluxia smirked and reached out, grabbing Vexen's arm and chuckling as a pained gasp slipped past the blonde's lips. He pushed up the long sleeve, revealing the snow-white skin, mottled with purple bruises. "I must not know my own strength," he mused, leaning forward and licking the dark marks.

Vexen moaned and shuddered lightly in his hold, not sure _how_ to feel about the warm, wet muscle running over his skin. In some ways, it felt good, but oh how he wished it didn't.

After a minute, Marluxia let him go. "I suppose you would prefer that I ate before your dinner started getting cold?"

The blonde nodded. "It would be best; food never tastes as good when it's been left to sit. I already have the table set and waiting for us." Marluxia stood up and walked through to the dining room, heading over to the bar to re-fill his wine-glass while Vexen dished out the best parts of each dish to the pink-haired male's plate before loading his own.

"That's excellent wine," Marluxia commented, sitting down a few seconds before Vexen did. "Any special occasion? I would feel _horrible_ if I had missed an anniversary or birthday."

"No special occasion," Vexen answered as he waited for Marluxia to take the first bite, hoping that his cooking was good, "I just thought that you might like it tonight."

Marluxia raised an eyebrow and took another sip before setting the glass down. "Expensive for no special occasion," he said under his breath, just loud enough for Vexen to hear and that was exactly how he had intended it.

He picked up his fork and tested each type of food on his plate. After a minute, his eyes narrowed a bit. "The potatoes need a bit more pepper."

Vexen reached out and passed him the shaker from the center of the table before starting to eat himself. He disagreed - everything tasted fine to him - but Marluxia had very odd taste sometimes.

"Did you get any actual work done today, or did you just play house wife?" the florist asked after a few more bites.

His tone was quite nasty, but Vexen did not take the bait. "I wrote more on the article about the ethical issues of genetic enhancement. Also, I got an e-mail that said my 'Men from Monkeys' article is being put into the special issue they're doing about evolution."

"Honestly, love, I asked if you did anything. I really don't care about the little details."

Vexen closed his eyes and counted to ten before he opened them again. When Marluxia was acting like that, it was so hard not to snap out a sharp 'fuck you!'. But he had, once….

He also didn't complain when Marluxia started to talk about his own day, everything that had happened down to leaving a rather poisonous looking caterpillar in the flowers a teenage boy had confessed to buying for his girlfriend. Vexen wondered how Marluxia's shop did not get shut down with the number of times the florist had pulled little stunts like that just to alleviate his boredom.

"And, of course, our black roses are looking beautiful. A few more days of blooming, and I might bring a bouquet home to you. Would you like that?" Marluxia asked, reaching out with his left hand and placing it on Vexen's knee.

"That would be nice," Vexen said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He cared little for flowers, and the pollen on his clothes often made the young, silver-haired boy at the library sneeze and give him withering looks, but Marluxia loved them so there were vases on most any surface that would stand still long enough.

They continued to eat in a less-tense-than-usual silence until Vexen's fork accidentally scratched against the plate, letting out a high whine for a few seconds, matched by the blonde's as razor-sharp fingernails managed to dig through his pants and into the skin on his leg.

When Marluxia's plate was empty, Vexen pushed back from the table. "Shall I go get dessert, then?" he asked, gathering the dishes even though he wasn't entirely finished. "It will only take me a moment."

Marluxia leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head as he watched Vexen head back into the kitchen.

As he sat the plates down in the sink, Vexen's eyes caught the framed picture on the wall that had been hanging there since they had bought the house but often went unnoticed. He paused and leaned his elbows on the counter.

He and Marluxia looked so happy in that photo. It was back when Marluxia was still a college student and himself the boy's science teacher. Vexen was in his long, white lab-coat, a clipboard clutched to his chest and giving a small glare to the camera, that was barely masking a smile.

Marluxia stood behind him, in a blue top that matched his wide eyes and a pair of black jeans, with his arms wrapped around Vexen's skinny torso. He was grinning at the camera-man.

God, that had to have been five years ago.

"Vexen!"

The blonde jumped and started digging through the refrigerator, trying to find the strawberry shortcake he had stuck in back.

Five years ago, back before Marluxia had graduated. The pink-haired man had always wanted to open up his flower shop, but by the time he had paid back his student loans, he had barely had enough money to rent himself a cheap apartment on the opposite side of town from his older, blonde lover.

The sex was definitely good and Marluxia was bold and unpredictable, so Vexen had decided to take a chance and let Marluxia move in with him, even putting up some of the money for the other man's shop.

Things had been wonderful for a while. Marluxia had loved being his own boss and was always in a good mood, on Valentine's and Mothers' Day, he was brining in great business, and Vexen had finally gotten a raise for tenure.

Vexen had actually been happy, as unusual as that was for him. But he realized one of the mistakes he had made after a while. He had never asked Marluxia about his ex-lovers. He realized this when one of them, a sassy blonde girl named Larxene, had come to visit Marluxia on vacation.

He had hated that stupid whore. She was just absolutely cruel, making jokes about Vexen's age, boniness, and job. And the florist's shop was _not_ something she would have done. But Vexen was willing to deal with her presence for a few weeks; she was Marluxia's best friend and she would be gone soon enough anyway.

When Larxene left, though, Marluxia was not acting quite like himself. He was broody and irritable and, well… his sex-drive had completely shut down. Vexen had tried to pull Marluxia out of it, patiently suggesting things that they could do together. With some time, he had managed to get Marluxia into bed with him again. And then it had happened.

Marluxia had started to moan that bitch's name while fucking his lover like an animal.

Vexen had been furious! And he had certainly not given Marluxia time to think up an excuse for it either. Vexen had not even let Marluxia _finish_. He had immediately let Marluxia have it. He was _not_ some blonde dominatrix running around in a leather corset-top and Marluxia would do well to remember exactly who it was that he was living with.

That was the first time Marluxia had punched him. It was just a fact that Marluxia was the stronger out of the pair. Vexen was bony and pale from spending his life locked in a lab while Marluxia spent most of his time out in the garden at his shop working the ground. Naturally, three of his teeth had chipped, and he had been forced to call in sick while the bruise healed over the weekend.

And for the most part, the abuse hadn't stopped since.

Vexen grabbed the dessert and carried it out to the dining room, Marluxia's eyes once again on him. "Took your sweet time, didn't you, Vexen?" Marluxia asked, irritably.

"Sorry." He served the shortcake but didn't have much appetite for it. Marluxia wolfed down the treat before getting up and going to the living room. Vexen cleaned up quickly and followed.

His stomach dropped when he saw Marluxia at the bar, trading the wineglass for a small cup of bourbon. Marluxia only drank like that when he was planning a long evening.

"Come here," Marluxia said, sitting down in his comfy chair and patting his lap.

Vexen walked slowly across the room and climbed into his lap, pulling his legs up and putting his head under Marluxia's chin. The florist's fingers ran through his hair, catching the small tangles and pulling as he worked them out of the wheat locks.

The two sat there for a while, starting to get comfy. Marluxia used his free hand to tilt Vexen's chin up and kiss him deeply on the lips, a small trickle of whiskey dribbling into his mouth. Marluxia smirked and his blood red lips trailed from Vexen's mouth, up to his ear where his teeth dug into the lobe, then down to his neck.

Vexen squirmed a bit. Damn the pink-haired man for knowing every weak point on his body.

"Go get the mail off of my desk and bring it to me. You can take a shower while I pay the bills."

A hot shower _did_ sound nice, so Vexen did as he was told and took Marluxia the unopened envelopes before heading into the bathroom. He turned on the water and stripped out of his clothes, setting a towel on the back of the toilet before stepping in and ducking his head into the spray. Oh that felt good! He took his time washing his hair and then his pale skin. Every day seemed to drag on until he got his alone time in the water. Sometimes, by the time he had finished, Marluxia had even already gone to bed and left him alone for the night.

He closed his eyes and stood in the water, letting the stress of the dinner melt away. Sometimes, on his worst days, Vexen wondered if he could ever get away with just up and leaving Marluxia. Zexion, the librarian, had promised to help him get away, and his editor, Xemnas, had said the same.

But he just couldn't leave. Goddamn his sentimentality, he still loved Marluxia. He had no idea why, but the idea of leaving the florist made him feel like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He just had to keep believing that, if he managed to do enough right, Marluxia would go back to being the arrogant but full-of-life freshman that had marched up to Vexen's desk on the first day of class, sat down on the corner, and had immediately introduced himself.

Lost in his memories, he didn't notice when the bathroom door opened and footsteps padded across the tile. He jumped when the shower-curtain was pushed back. Marluxia was standing there, and he didn't look happy.

"What do you do, turn on every light in the house as soon as I leave just for shits and giggles?"

"What are you talking about?" Vexen demanded, turning off the water and grabbing the towel to cover himself. "Of course I don't!"

"There is absolutely no other excuse for that electric bill," Marluxia hissed. "When you're home, it's the middle of the day and the sun is out! It's bright enough for animals, it's plenty enough for you."

"I don't know why it's so much, but I'll change some things so it won't be as high next month, okay?"

Marluxia's eyes narrowed again. It was the classic sign of his anger. "Don't you start copping an attitude with me, Vexen. When it comes down to you and me, we both know who will win, and it won't be you."

Vexen clenched his jaw and Marluxia's arm shot out, grabbing him by the upper-arm. "You're done. Get out."

"Marluxia, I still have soap in my hair!" the blonde protested, only for his lover to turn around and slap him. Vexen barked out in pain and raised a hand to the blooming red mark as Marluxia threw a second towel over his head and started drying him off. "Come on, Marluxia, not tonight."

"Since when did I give you permission to talk back to me!" Marluxia demanded, tossing the towel aside and jerking a fist-full of Vexen's hair. He marched the blonde into the bedroom and shoved him, hard, until the blonde sprawled out on the bed.

"I don't want to do this tonight!"

Marluxia grabbed Vexen's shoulders in his claws and pinned him onto the sheets. "Shut up!" he snapped, "I have no patience for you tonight." He ripped the blanket from around Vexen's waist, leaving the blonde naked and vulnerable.

"You'll keep your mouth shut and your legs open if you know what's good for you." He pulled one of his long, feminine fingers into his mouth and gave it a wet suck before using his knees to push Vexen's legs apart and pushing the digit into the older man's entrance.

Vexen moaned loudly and squirmed, trying to buck Marluxia's weight off of him. "Stop it! I said I don't want to!"

Marluxia chuckled and rammed another finger inside of him. Vexen gasped out in pain and Marluxia leaned down next to his ear. "Does that hurt, Vexen? Hmm? My poor little baby. If you hadn't been fighting back against me, I would have been much nicer to you, you know."

Vexen moaned weakly and pushed against Marluxia's built chest, his bony arms not managing anything. His insides burned as the muscle was stretched out by one wet and one dry digit, but it was certainly not the first time Marluxia had used him, and not even the first time he had used him brutally.

Marluxia furiously kissed at his ear and neck, adding in soft laps with his tongue as he spread his fingers apart, not granting more than a second of relief from the pain. "What you don't seem to understand, Vexen, is that you're mine! I won't allow you to refuse me! The toy does not get any say on when it's played with!"

"Marulxia, stop!" Vexen shouted, squirming. One of his legs got out from being trapped by the pink-haired male's and he lashed out, kicking Marluxia off of him. When the florist landed on the floor with an oomph, Vexen grabbed the robe resting on the back of a chair and pulled it on, trying to leave the room.

He made it as far as the living room before Marluxia grabbed him from behind. "You little bitch!"

Vexen reached out and clawed for the curtains hanging in the window, managing to catch them in his hand. Marluxia jerked him around the waist and sent him crashing to the floor. The curtains followed and the rod half-came off the wall, hanging limply by one screw.

"Look at the mess you made!" Marluxia snapped, wrenching Vexen's arm behind his back until the blonde was bent over and he could feel the bones creaking. "You're going to have to fix that!"

"Marluxia, I'm sorry! Just stop hurting me!" Vexen screamed, still fighting against the weight on his back.

The pink-haired male laughed and stood back, giving Vexen a good kick in the side before reaching for the zipper on his own pants and pulling them down. "It's your choice, Vexen; suck it until it's nice and wet or take it dry."

As humiliating as it was, Vexen knew which option he would have to take to get through the pain. He brought his arm back around and was horrified to discover that it was almost entirely numb. He turned around and leaned forward, taking Marluxia's bared erection into his mouth.

Marluxia seemed to calm down quite a bit when he showed his submission this way. "Much better," he purred, leaning against the side of the couch and gazing down on Vexen, feeling like a conqueror.

Vexen tried to ignore the blue eyes trained on him as he used his tongue along the thick, hot flesh, knowing from experience that Marluxia would not stay placated for long and he would have to do everything he could to prepare for that moment.

True to his prediction, Marluxia tired of that stimulation soon enough and grabbed Vexen by the hair, jerking it in his fist and pulling the blonde's head back, giving a few thrusts aimed right at the back of his throat before pushing him away. "Spread your legs wide, you whore; I'm in no mood to play games with you."

The blonde only had a few seconds to raise his hips before Marluxia was slamming inside him, letting out a pleasured sigh that was completely over-ridden by Vexen's scream of pain. He did not waste a second before he started ramming into him, blood quickly flowing down the back of Vexen's thighs.

"If you make a mess and stain the carpet," Marluxia warned, "then you'll find out exactly why you shouldn't piss me off!"

"You're the one making me bleed!" Vexen shouted, "if you would just wait even a mere minute I would be fine!"

"I told you, didn't I? The toy gets no say!"

Marluxia slammed inside of him brutally, not giving a damn whether or not he managed to make the experience pleasurable for Vexen; this was part one of the blonde's punishment for irritating him all evening anyway.

Vexen ran his fingernails through the carpet, choking on mouthfuls of painful shouts. "You have no reason to treat me like this just because I'm not that stupid bitch that you _wish_ you were living with!"

The florist paused and looked down at the bruised figure under him, rivers of blood running down snow-white skin. He was unmoved. "How fucking dare you," he started slowly, "even speak about Larxene!"

"We both know you'd rather be with her, so why do you stay here and torture me?!"

Marluxia got to his feet, all of his sexual passion turning into rage at the blonde who had pushed him one step too far that night. He walked around the bar and his hands slipped out of view.

Vexen watched every move he made, realizing far too late that what he had said would probably infuriate his lover. "Marluxia, I-."

"Shut up!"

He let out a tiny sound and, despite the pain, curled up into a little ball.

"Do you know why I stay with her when it's so _obvious_ that Larxene is the real love of my life?" Marluxia grinned. "Larxene is perfect. She has no faults. She is not a slut like you, and I am too far from perfection to be celibate for her."

The blonde knew that had to be a bold-faced lie. Not only had Larxene hit on him between her cruel jokes, but she stayed out until two or later almost every night she was visiting. Nothing about her screamed chaste or virginal. And, also, Vexen himself was the one who wasn't a slut….

"Get back on your knees, Vexen, and I mean now," Marluxia said, tone quiet and dark. "I'll have to teach you a hard lesson about butting in where you aren't wanted."

Vexen ducked his head and knew that Marluxia was going to be even rougher with him now that he had openly brought the florist's 'true love' into the situation. It would just be another one of those days, where Vexen was lucky if he could half-stumble through his daily chores and pray Marluxia made plans to go out.

Marluxia wrapped Vexen's hair around his hand a few times so that he could keep absolute control before one of his knees pressed down on the backs of Vexen's legs. "You just stay still," he hissed.

The position was unusual, and if Marluxia was facing sideways so that his own leg would be going across almost perfectly, then he couldn't be parallel to Vexen - the geometry just didn't add up.

Ignoring the command to remain in that position, he turned his head for just a moment and saw a flash of something small and metallic before Marluxia jerked his hand back, forcing Vexen's face forwards.

"Marluxia, don't!"

Marluxia smirked and dove the small corkscrew into Vexen's back, right in the center of the small, and ripped it back out, watching blood splatter. The blonde was screaming louder than Marluxia had ever heard him before and he frowned, stabbing him again and again to shut him up before the neighbors came pounding the door down.

Vexen felt like fire was racing all over his spine and there was no question that the blood from the stab wounds was flowing over his skin, leaving a huge bloody stain on the carpet, though that was the last thing on his mind. Marluxia had never done something like this, never more than just a smack or a burst dam of verbal abuse.

As Marluxia continued to vent his rage on the skinny figure under him, he didn't realize that some of the blood spattered against the ceiling and the window, still half-covered by the fallen curtain. He continued until Vexen stopped screaming, but by that time, the blonde wasn't moving at all.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Roxas let out a few dull-minded grumbles as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. "Goddamn, Axel," he muttered, "at least crack a window; it was hot in there." The red-head was at the wall, turning the air-conditioning on to get rid of the humidity in the bedroom while Roxas went to get them both something cool to drink.

He paid no attention as he passed through the living room toward the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. His lover always teased him about his habit of drinking after sex, but Roxas figured if he was old enough to be pounded into the mattress by a college student, he was probably old enough to drink in the afterglow.

As he walked back through the living room, he glanced at the closed curtains and frowned. Axel was probably right, and there was nothing for him to be watching.

Roxas was home from school for the summer while Axel was working his tail off as a waiter, but he insisted that the blonde not work his last summer of high-school. Even though Roxas felt guilty, he had liked that Axel was willing to spoil him so much, coming from a family where his twin brother was parents' pet.

It was during the summer off that he had first met the skinny blonde who lived across the street in the pink house with the white porch and huge garden. Some of their mail had been put in his and Axel's box by mistake, so, like a good neighbor, he took it over to him.

The person who answered the door was bony and pale, and barely came into the sunlight. When Roxas offered up the letter, he had snatched it from the boy's hand like it was the directions for making an atomic bomb in the hands of a terrorist. He had turned it every which way in the light before tucking it into his pocket.

Curious as he was, Roxas gently persuaded the blonde man to invite him in for a drink. It had been hard work to convince him, too! When they were both inside, the neighbor kept his back turned for the most part as he lead Roxas to the kitchen. The house was spotless, almost frighteningly so, like just breathing in the house made it dirty.

While Roxas drank the tea he had been served, the man disappeared through the doors and returned without the letter. Little had been said between them so far, so Roxas was surprised when the man asked what time it was. Glancing around, he saw that there were no clocks anywhere in the kitchen.

"About 4:45," he said, checking his watch. Axel got home at 5:30-ish.

"Then if you'll excuse me. I should probably get dinner ready." Roxas could take a hint, and it was obvious that this man didn't want him around. He got up to leave but left the glass sitting on the table - as most teenagers would, in his defense.

At the kitchen door, he paused and turned around to say something, only to see a pale hand that was almost as thin as a skeleton's, with a ring of finger-shaped purple bruises around the wrist, picking up his drink.

"Um."

"What? I hate to be rude, but I really have no time for this."

"I was just wondering if you hurt your hand."

"My…? Of course not! Just an accident," he had said, quickly, "now please! He gets home at five."

Roxas thought that it was kind of rude for the man to be rushing him out just because the other, who he rarely ever saw since he was usually gone by the time Roxas woke up at ten and got home when he was picking up the mess before Axel got back, was coming home. Didn't he want to introduce them?

But he didn't know them well enough to insist, so he left. As he passed through the living room on his own, he saw the sun casting odd shadows on the carpet and checked back to make sure the kitchen door was closed before wandering over. The darkness he had seen was not shadows, but blood. For a moment, Roxas laughed and thought that the two must be pretty kinky to be that rough in the middle of the living room.

Then he thought of the bruises and cut short.

Something about how insistent the man was that he get out, his sharpness and the fact that he would never look directly at Roxas did not sit right with the blonde teen. So he left, but watched until the pink-haired man got home that night.

Nothing _seemed_ to be wrong, but he did think it was odd that almost immediately, the curtain to the living room was pulled shut.

Roxas wondered if Axel was right and he was just inventing a mystery about the two odd men living across the street, but he decided that one more check couldn't kill anyone. He pulled back their own curtain and frowned.

Across the street, half of the window was covered by the fallen cloth and rod, and something like paint was streaked across the glass. Roxas leaned forward a bit and clicked off their own living room light so that he could see better without the reflection in the window.

It was red… and looked too thin to be paint.

"Axel… Axel!"

The red-head came rushing into the room, thinking that something was wrong with his boyfriend. "What is it, Roxy?" he demanded, green eyes darting everywhere.

Roxas shoved one of the quickly-heating drinks into his hand. "Take this; you're going to need it. And call the hospital… and police."


End file.
